Rain Upon the Ashes
by Serena Bancroft
Summary: Medieval AU-An illegitimate heir sits upon the throne of Asgard; an unknown menace seeks to destroy the Royal Family. Thor Odinson, true heir to the throne and banished years before, emerges as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, further endangering his family. Jane Foster, once a high-born Lady of Midgard, finds herself fighting a war when she once only desired to see the stars.
1. Rain Upon the Earth

**Title:** Rain Upon the Ashes  
**Author:** Serena

**Summary:** An ancient evil threatens Yggdrasil. An illegitimate heir sits upon the throne of Asgard, and an unknown menace seeks to destroy the Royal Family. Thor Odinson, true heir to the throne and banished years before, emerges as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, further endangering his family. Known publicly only as the Raven, Jane Foster, once a high-born Lady of Midgard, finds herself fighting a war when she once only desired to see the stars.

**AN:** This story was inspired by beautiful gifsets by the wonderful runakvaed on Tumblr. Links are on my profile. To read the story with the gifsets integrated, visit me on AO3. If you're interested, I'll probably be posting lots of extra stuff on Tumblr, so come on over rover. Without further ado...

* * *

_From the ashes_

_She rises as she falls_

_Long live the queen_

* * *

**Chapter I. Rain Upon the Earth**

Jane really needed to stop getting herself into these situations.

Really.

An arrow flew past her head, nearly shearing the hood that protected her identity. Her hand shot up reflexively to make sure the scarf covering her face was still in place.

When she found it tight and secure across everything except her eyes, her hand returned to her reins. She loosened them some more, giving Gísl her head. The large blood bay, near black, horse stretched out her neck as far as she could, but Jane still had to hold her in check. The forest floor was riddled with debris, and avoiding the obstacles wouldn't be easy at a full gallop. The horse and rider slalomed through the trees, doing their best to make is as difficult as possible for the Queen's forces to shoot at her, and even harder for the capitol-trained horses to catch up in such a difficult environment.

Jane saw a break in the trees ahead and swore loudly. A mostly flat prairie was before her, and grass only tall enough to conceal Gísl up to her chest. Changing direction would do her no good, as another scan of the area revealed the trees thinning substantially on both of her sides. No cover in whatever direction she went. Betting on Gísl's speed, Jane decided that straight ahead would be the only option.

As they drew upon the prairie, Jane spotted the forest continuing on the other side, just over a hundred yards off. Jane grinned, her mood reversing. "It's time to let loose, love," she said to her horse over the wind rushing past them. The moment they hit the prairie, Jane let the reins slide through her fingers, letting Gísl have as much slack as she could safely give her.

One reason Jane knew that she kept evading the Queen's Army was because of her horse. Gísl was fast and agile, and her huge presence was uncommon for a filly but an enormous advantage when encountering soldiers on foot.

Although, _fast_ always seemed to be an understatement when her magnificent horse opened up. After letting out a little buck at the sheer joy of just being able to run, Gísl settled into a smooth, ground-eating gallop. Jane sat forward in the saddle, pushing her heels further down and gripping the saddle with her thighs. Her hands tangled in Gísl's black mane as Jane's torso settled low over the horse's neck. Her large, bounding strides quickly put distance between the pair and their pursuers.

However fast Gísl was, it appeared it wouldn't be fast enough to simply outrun her pursuers as their shouts grew clearer without the obstruction afforded by the forest.

_Aim for the horse!_

_For the Queen!_

_For Asgard!_

Jane didn't see them, but she could hear arrows slicing through the air around them, dangerously close. The grass was steadily getting shorter as they neared the end of the clearing, giving them less and less coverage until everything except Gísl's fetlocks were exposed.

An arrow ripped through her cloak, just barely missing her side and falling to the ground beneath Gísl's churning hooves. She couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath that followed, and her sense of urgency amplified tenfold.

_C'mon, just a little further,_ Jane mentally urged, her heart in her throat. They were so close, just a few seconds and they'd be back under the cover of the trees.

Jane felt her heart plummet from her throat to her feet when she saw a group of foot soldiers emerge from the trees she was so desperately running towards. They had several bowmen whose arrows were pointed in her direction.

So this was it. This was where her life finally ended. She couldn't help but be disappointed; she had so much to _do_ and she would never finish it. And then there was the fear, gouging into her with its icy claws, but she'd gotten very good at ignoring that.

She kept her eyes wide open, for some reason not wanting to miss the shot that would kill her-not wanting to miss the chance to look her killer in the eye. She waited for the shot to pierce her, end it in pain and blood, but it never came.

The arrows didn't fly into her-they were flying _around_ her.

Then there came agonized shouts from the army men who pursued her. A quick check over her shoulder revealed men being shot off their horses, bodies falling into obscurity in the tall grasses.

She didn't know who these impromptu saviors were, but they were obviously against the Queen's Army and she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She also didn't plan on sticking around to thank them.

She was about to urge Gísl through the line of men when a massive, jet black horse mounted by an equally impressively-sized man stepped from the shadows of the forest right in her path.

She didn't much like the idea of colliding with that horse, and while Gísl had impressive agility, they didn't have time to change direction and continue running (not to mention that it would put them in the direct path of the bowmen who could accidentally land a hit.) The only way to avoid it would be to come to a complete stop. Jane sat back in the saddle, sitting deeply and behind their momentum, gathered up the slack once more, regaining tight contact with the bit, and sawed the reins back and forth to stop the charging filly. She half-feared for a moment the high-spirited Gísl would seize the bit in her teeth and continue running headlong into the other horse.

Instead, her horse emitted a scream that terrified Jane to the core because she knew that it meant _injury_ and a bad one at that. And Gísl didn't stop- she kept trying to run even though Jane could feel something was terribly wrong. It was one of her hind legs, but before she could decipher which one it was, they were falling. It wasn't sudden or neat-Gísl's back legs gave out before anything else, and her back end dragged the rest of her down. Jane kept enough presence of mind to kick free of the stirrups and push away from the falling horse.

Gísl's body hit the ground first, a heavy thud that struck with a finality that made Jane sick. She nearly _was_ sick when she herself landed with a loud grunt a split second later, being sure to land on her hip and roll with the momentum, ending up facedown with a mouth full of grass. Despite her mostly correct landing, pain rippled outwards from when she landed, but it was nowhere near as serious as the injury she knew Gísl had acquired.

The cries of her initial pursuers had gone quiet, and now Jane was aware of being encircled and surrounded by whoever these people were. Looking up from where she lay, she determined they certainly weren't Queen's Army. Their armor was mismatched, and some didn't even wear any, and none of them bore Hela's crest. The only thing they had in common was a red cuff somewhere on their arms- for some it was a red cloth tied around a bicep, and for others a thick ribbon tied around their wrists. The only one who didn't have any red on his person was the man on the horse.

Jane could tell he was tall-even seated on his horse, she could tell he would make an imposing figure. Despite his rather ruddy appearance, with dark hair and unshaven face, his features were startlingly handsome; she didn't take the time to appreciate them given her current circumstances. She also couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen him before.

Heedless of their presence but still hyper-aware of it, she crawled over to Gísl, doing her best not to sob at the pained squeals coming from her. Her legs flailed against the ground, kicking up clots of dirt and spreading small amounts of blood from a yet unknown source. Jane whispered sweet nothings trying to keep her from thrashing. Still obviously terrified, but reassured by her partner's presence, Gísl stilled. Her sides heaved in exertion, and Jane ran a calming hand along the filly's sweaty neck. Her eyes searched quickly for the source of the injury, finding it fairly quickly. One of the Queen's Army men must've landed a shot, as an arrow stuck out of the flesh above Gísl's hind left hock.

"Step away from your horse and keep your hands where we can see them," the man on the horse commanded. His voice sounded like that of a leader.

Her eyes moved from her horse, carefully noting each soldier with their weapons pointed at her. Her bow was strung around her torso beneath her cloak. It wouldn't take her very long to whip it off and start firing, but it would be suicidal with the number of opponents she faced. So Jane didn't have much of a choice. Cooperate or die. Lovely.

Gísl began to move her legs, showing the early signs of another panicked thrashing. "It's going to be okay, love, just please don't move," Jane pleaded to Gísl again, not making a move to stand.

He repeated his command, "I said stand and keep your hands up."

"I'll stand if you agree to help my horse," she bargained, meeting his eyes, her tone conveying more confidence than she felt at the moment. She didn't find any compassion in his blue eyes, and fear began to work itself into her once again.

The tall man dismounted, the ease of the action belying his size, and indicated a great amount of time spent on horseback. "If you hadn't noticed, you are in no position to be giving orders."

"I'll give you orders whether you bloody like it or not!"

That seemed to amuse him. He made a motion with his hand, his slow pace bringing him closer to her. "Off with the hood and the scarf. And give me your name while you're at it."

Instead of fulfilling both wishes, she answered, "I'm the Raven." She kept her eyes solidly focused on the huge, dark-haired man who was about seven feet away from her now, but made no move to stand yet.

With her words, whispers exploded among the men surrounding her. The scarf across her face hid her smile. Her reputation often preceded her.

"The Raven, you say?" The leader walked ever closer to her, and she remained tensed. His eyes became less guarded, she noted. "I've heard you have a message for me."

Suddenly, recognition dawned on her. This is exactly who she'd meant to find and Jane couldn't believe she'd just run into him, but with her horse groaning behind her, she didn't feel very fortuitous. "Then you've heard correctly, Thor Odinson." She stood finally, turning fully towards him.

No longer fearing for the safety of her identity, (_He can be trusted, Jane_) she pulled off her hood and pulled down the scarf obscuring the rest of her face.

The first thing she heard from the men surrounding her: "Bloody hell, she's a woman!"

"The Raven ain't no woman!"

Passion blazed within her as she stood and turned towards the speakers. Jane tilted her head as she studied them, a plan quickly formulating in her mind. Quick as a blink, and much faster than anyone could stop her, she removed her bow, snagging an arrow from her quiver as she went. Nocking it and drawing it back in a single motion, Jane fired. Several of the men had gasped in shock, and fumbled with their weapons to take her down at what Jane saw as a glacial pace.

The second one who spoke, the one who attributed her skill to manhood, found his arrow shattered, knocked from the bow. In the next second, Jane had fired another arrow and he found the floppy cap on his head gone.

She kept herself low to the ground in case anyone was thinking of trying to fire at her. She noticed that Thor's only reaction to her was to be amused, his lips curling in a smile. She found her own drawn into a similar action.

"What's this now about the Raven not being a woman?"

* * *

**12 Months Earlier**

Shadows crept along the palace walls as though they were entities of the shifting moonlight. They seemed to warp and bend as if under control around a singular figure, features disguised under a green cloak.

Another figure cut through the shadows. This cloak was white and sheer, and the sharp, blue features of an Ice Elven woman could be seen through the glittering fabric.

When they met in the middle of the dark, deserted hall, the figure in green spoke first. "Is the deed done?"

The elf said in reply, "Yes. She is gone. The dark son went unawares. He will wake to his mother's blood."

"Good work, Elphane. You will be richly rewarded for your service."

Elphane's answering smile was greedy. "Will this be a traditional reward or something perhaps-" she moved towards the figure, blatant seduction in her voice and posture, "more mutually pleasurable?"

The green-swathed figure stepped forward, an obvious participant in the game they played. "While that sounds like an excellent plan," it said quietly, roughly, "I cannot dally this night. Traditional payment it will have to be."

Elphane only looked disappointed for a moment. "I cannot find it in myself to complain about that. Do you require my... _true_ services further this night?"

The green figure shook its head. "No. You have done well and may return home. I will send for you soon. Long live the queen."

Elphane concluded in farewell, "Long live the queen."

* * *

It was in a town square in Vanaheim that his life truly fell to pieces.

If he'd once thought that his banishment would be the end of him...

A message runner, rare nowadays but still used for major events, galloped into town upon a small stallion. He shouted, "I bring news! News from Asgard! News from the capitol!" The horse and rider came to a halt in the middle of the town square. The horse's nostrils flared for breath, sweat coating his chest and flanks. His teeth worked the bit in his mouth, foam dripping from his lips. "Someone care for the horse!" called the messenger, and a few of the townsfolk scurried to fetch water for drink and sheepskins to rub him down.

Those in the square gathered around like moth to the flame, all but he, the one man who stalked behind the crowds leading a magnificent black horse away from the spectacle and towards the road that would lead out of the town. "I bring dire news from Asgard. On the tail of losing so many of the Royal Family, it is with a heavy heart that I tell you the Fourth Family has fallen."

His world shuddered to a halt.

He turned towards the commotion, and his voice carried across the distance, "What of the Fourth Family? What happened?" He walked closer to the messenger, his large horse making the people part for him; Sleipnir was an imposing presence, always had been.

The messenger finds who asked the question. "Princess Frigga is dead. We hope and pray that she has joined her husband, the late Prince Odin, in Valhalla." Murmurs rippled through the gathered people, terrified whispers and conspiracy theories began circling, among the reverent chants of 'May they rest in peace.' Trying to regain control, the messenger followed with, "The Queen has assured the people it was natural causes that led to this tragic fate."

He bristled. _Because anything the Queen says is the absolute truth._

"What of the Princess's son?" he asked urgently. His heart was beating quickly in his chest and his blood rushed loudly in his ears.

A laugh rippled through those gathered. "Surely you've known Prince Thor has been banished for years!" answered the messenger with mirth, now dismounting his horse.

"I meant the other son," he replied darkly. _Must they always insist on forgetting him._

The messenger didn't look concerned. "His condition was not a part of my message."

Not a part of the message. Forgotten like he didn't matter.

Never in his life had Thor been so afraid.

* * *

Jane Foster had been greatly confused by many things in her lifetime - her first studies of the stars, the first time she sighted the Aurora, men, why her mother had kept insisting she _not_ take that tone with her suitors - but none as profoundly as this dress.

"Do the people of Asgard insist that brides be unable to breathe?" Jane ground out in frustration as the two lady's-maids behind her tightened the corset further than the one trapped inside had ever thought possible.

"Dear, this dress style is at the height of fashion right now!" her mother scolded. Jane rolled her eyes, her back to the eldest female Foster. How in the world was she supposed to know that? "While you have a pleasing waistline, _you_ can never have too much help," her mother intoned pointedly.

"Yes, you so enjoy reminding me that you had to practically beg Lord Donald to take me as his wife," she said, now mock-imitating her mother's voice. "Heaven forbid that Laurel Foster's daughter marry a commoner. No, I must go to the capitol and find a lord of high standing, good breeding, and sleep-inducing conversation to take my daughter off my hands."

"That's quite enough lip from you, young lady." Her mother came to stand next to the seamstress, watching the lady's-maids try to suffocate her. Laurel continued, "You're lucky I am so close to Lady Heather. Otherwise, you would never have even met Donald-"

"And what a tragedy that would have been," Jane mumbled, panicking a little when her ribcage wouldn't expand for another breath.

"-and you are lucky that such a fine man is willing to put up with you and your moods," Laurel finished, acting as though she hadn't heard Jane.

Jane snorted the best she could, since the corset was next to strangling her. "My sincerest apology if my opinions are considered moods. Last I was aware, I was just as smart as any man. Smarter even." The maids began dragging the dress up her body, sheathing her in heavy lace and silk.

As they laced up the back of the dress, Jane refused to look at herself in the mirror in front of her. She knew the image she saw would make her feel at least twice as suffocated as the corset did. She kept her gaze securely on her right hand, fisted at her side.

Laurel made a frustrated sound. "That is the kind of talk that will drive a husband from you like a horse's tail drives the fly." She studied her daughter with a critical eye, now fully dressed in what she would wear on her wedding day minus the extra trappings of the veil, and turned to the seamstress. "I'd like you to take it in another two inches."

Jane's face flicked to where her mother stood with fire in her eyes. "What? No! It's fine!" Her arms closed protectively around herself as if she could shield herself from her mother's machinations.

"It may be fine right now, but sweetling, have you seen the other women who have vied for Donald's affections? Women of Asgard are so much thinner and prettier than woman of Midgard! You must work to keep up!"

Jane swallowed back the angry tears that just begged to come out, but she remained silent, and her eyes returned to her fist.

* * *

Hours later, dress and corset long gone, Jane reveled in the feel of her vest, pants, and boots rather than the confining clothes of a Court Lady, and perhaps best of all, her bow in her hands. The bowstring humming with tension against her calloused fingertips always helped calm her. The snick of an arrow being nocked, the twang and whistle of the release and seeing the head buried in the target did more for her nerves than almost anything.

However, it didn't always negate the need to just yell.

"I just can't believe her!" Jane nearly shouted as she loosed another arrow, striking the center of one of the several targets on a tree some thirty feet away from her.

"Yes, I've always known that your mom's a little insane, but that's roughly ten miles past too far," Darcy sympathized. While her bow might be a good outlet for her anger, her best friend was the best outlet for her frustration.

Jane was grateful for the younger woman's company and counsel. They'd met each other when they were young, before Jane's father had begun to travel so much and before her mother had condemned her study of the stars. Jane, barely out of her childhood, had been attempting to build a device that would allow her to examine the stars, to see them closer; it was to be much like seeing an ordinary item with a magnifying glass. Jane told everyone what she was doing much to her mother's horror and embarrassment. Darcy Lewis was the first (and only) one to say how incredible that was and asked how she could help. They had been inseparable ever since. Even though Jane didn't get the scope working well until her late teens, Darcy had been at her side the entire time.

Jane's family really didn't approve of their friendship- Jane was technically born a Court Lady, but living in Midgard made them rather far removed from the actual Royal Court of Asgard. Jane didn't even want the title and tried to forget about it most days. Meanwhile, Darcy came from a respected family of farming peasants. Despite her mother's meddling, Jane had never found the class divisions off-putting. In fact, she loved going down to the valley, to the Lowtown with the rest of the farmers, blacksmiths, grocers, and shopkeeps and spending her time there rather than with the rest of the 'high-borns.' In the Lowtown, the parties were always rowdy and fun, with flowing ale and good spirits. Parties with those her mother deemed 'proper' were always stifling affairs, with an undercurrent of tension because everyone had secrets to keep and backs to stab.

"She keeps going on and on about Asgard's women being so thin and how Donald will be expecting me to be 'Asgard thin.' That's what Laurel calls it. More like skin and bones to me. I mean, I look... okay, right?" Jane appealed to Darcy.

Nodding vigorously, "Oh yeah. Seven shades of heaven, that body. Also your face is made of sunshine."

Jane laughed at Darcy's words. After remaining silent for a beat, she said, half-joking and half-serious, "I'm jealous of your life."

Darcy shrugged as another arrow left Jane's bow. "I would be too. My mother isn't crazy like yours, I haven't gotten typhus yet like everyone else, and Ian is fantastically subservient." Ian, of course, was Darcy's husband. They were wed last spring and were 'still in the honeymoon phase' according to Darcy. Jane had cried at the wedding and thrown flower petals on the happy couple. It had been one of the best days of Jane's life, watching her best friend so happy.

Jane smiled, laughing again. The action felt good; she didn't do either nearly enough anymore. "You got one of the good ones, Darce."

A silence descended upon them. Neither liked to acknowledge Jane's impending marriage, as it was a great deal more serious than Jane having to lose a few more pounds just to please a man she had no desire to be in the company of, let alone marry.

"So how 'bout that Rebellion, eh?" Darcy segued, obviously not wanting to dwell on the things unsaid.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Doomed to fail, probably. The way the army's growing, they'll probably have them rooted out in a matter of months." That seemed to make Darcy go quiet for a few moments. Jane moved her eyes from the targets riddled with arrows to her friend. Her face was reticent, contemplative and worried in a way Jane rarely saw. "What is it, Darce?"

Darcy licked her lips before nearly forcing out, "You remember Khal, yeah?"

Jane lowered her bow, turning bodily to Darcy now. "Yeah. He and Tamara just had a baby girl, right?"

She nodded. "He's missing," she managed.

With that, Jane dropped her bow on the ground, rushing to Darcy's side and dropping to her knees. She didn't really know how to respond, "Are... are you sure?" Of all the ridiculous things she could've said...

But Darcy didn't seem bothered. "Tam said he got up this morning to feed the pigs. That shouldn't take long, right? So Tam heads out to look for him. The pigs weren't fed, and Khal was nowhere to be found. She's getting scared, Jane, and Tam doesn't scare easily."

Swallowing heavily, Jane made herself more comfortable on the grass next to Darcy. "How many people is that now?"

"Seven. Everyone has their theories. Ian... Ian said he thinks its the queen."

Jane stiffened. It wasn't as if she hadn't heard the rumors. And despite the efforts of the high-borns, no one quite forgot exactly how Queen Hela came to power. "Be... be careful with what you say Darcy."

"Who's going to hear us out here? Man, that tree stump looks awfully like a Queensagent, don't you think?"

"It doesn't matter if there's a Queensagent!" Jane snapped. "Talk like that gets you taken or worse. You have to be careful."

"Yet it doesn't seem to matter if we're careful, does it? You don't live in the Lowtown, Jane, and god knows I love you to death for adopting us, but you don't _know_ what it's like for us. People are scared to take a single breath because it might mean they get arrested." _Or publicly flogged. Or executed._ Those last two always went unsaid.

Darcy was right in some regard. Jane, while held in high esteem with a good number of them, wasn't a born Lowtowner. She lived on the Valley Rim with the rest of the high-borns, and despite everything she wished, she was still technically one of them.

The lavish parties thrown saw Jane stepping into horribly uncomfortable ball gowns, putting on a mask of complacency and idiocy and doing her best to not piss off her mother. She'd gotten worse at those things as she grew older and less patient with the way she was treated. What she was afforded at these functions was a different perspective of the Queen's regime. "I know. Living on the Rim is different-everyone says they adore Hela, but half of the things these people say are outright lies. They're constantly lying and manipulating for social status, and what better way to weasel their way into the capitol Court than lavish praise on the Queen whenever there's a Queensagent in earshot. And the Queensagents are crawling all over the Rim, _constantly_. It's a nightmare." Jane sagged towards the ground, feeling heavier after getting that off her chest rather than lighter. "If the Rebellion is going to succeed, they've got a hell of a job ahead of them."

Darcy smiled wistfully. "Even if they don't make any sort of impact... at least it's making people think, making them open their eyes." She paused for a beat. "Makes you wonder... wonder if maybe things won't always have to be the way they are, you know? That maybe it wouldn't be so impossible to stand up and say no."

Jane finally sat down next to Darcy, sighing. "Maybe." She turned to her friend, humor on her face, eager to shake the solemn attitude that had descended. "It's not like I'll be doing any fighting, right?"

Her joke did the trick, and Darcy smiled, chuckling. "You might be good with your bow, but yeah, you couldn't hurt a fly."

* * *

_Preview of Chapter II: Rain Upon the Silence_

_"At ease, men. She is no threat if you refrain from insulting her," Thor called out. A few of the men looked uncertain before lowering their bows and swords._

_The one who was now hatless didn't look so keen. "Not a threat? She coulda taken off my head!"_

_Jane's heated glare turned back towards him. "Would you still like me to?"_


	2. Rain Upon the Silence

**AN:** Sorry about the late post. I cannot adequately express how busy I've been. Thank you so much for the reviews! It's been quite some time since I've been able to enjoy such a fantastic response to a new story! If you haven't yet, go check out runakvaed and me on tumblr. There's gifs and a really legit trailer and things! Yay! I have the links up on my profile. Onwards...

**Chapter II. Rain Upon the Silence**

_She kept herself low to the ground in case anyone was thinking of trying to fire at her. She noticed that Thor's only reaction to her was to be amused, his lips curling in a smile. She found her own drawn into a similar action._

_"What's this now about the Raven not being a woman?"_

"At ease, men. She is no threat if you refrain from insulting her," Thor called out. A few of the men looked uncertain before lowering their bows and swords.

The one who was now hatless didn't look so keen. "Not a threat? She coulda taken off my head!"

Jane's heated glare turned back towards him. "Would you still like me to?"

Thor stepped between the two, hands raised in an obvious gesture for peace. "Both of you, stop it. Clig," he said, focusing his attention on Hatless, apparently named Clig, "do yourself a favor and stop talking before she takes off something more precious than your head."

It obviously took Clig a few moments to understand to what Thor was referring. It was hard to miss when he finally caught on, his face going white and his hands fumbling in his haste to put his bow away. Jane had to smother a grin.

"Now that that's all settled," Thor muttered in annoyance, before refocusing on Jane. "We need to get you back to base camp. I have several others who will want to have words with you. Now," he turned to Gísl, who lay quietly but was still breathing rather hard, "what do you want to do with your horse?"

For the second time that day, Jane was surprised. Surprises were something Hawkeye had taught her how to avoid, so two in a day was something else.

"I didn't expect you to give me a choice," she said, voice a bit bleak. She didn't know the extent of Gísl's injury, didn't even know if the filly would be able to walk, let alone recover if given the chance. She swallowed heavily, remembering her mentor's final words to her. _Take care of that horse, Jane. Now you need to run. Go! I'll hold them off. _Despite the time that had passed, she still heard them in her head like a punishing cadence. "I want to try to help her. I can't just give up on her."

Thor seemed to understand, marking the arrival of surprise number three. She'd expected him to fight her on it, say that they couldn't afford the delay nor the likely arduous recovery process that would be involved with such an injury. She saw his eyes flick over to his own horse, the huge black with the feathered feet who possessed scars big and small across his body. "Okay, then."

He began giving orders to the men with a practiced ease- take everything you can off of the dead soldiers and then burn the bodies, and collect the Asgardian horses that still mulled about their downed riders. As Thor called for someone to bring the medical supplies, Jane knelt back to the ground once more, carefully moving to inspect the wound.

She didn't touch it at all, not wanting Gísl to catch her with a kick. She settled with running a hand along her sweating hindquarter. "It will be all right, love."

Jane's mind raced with how she could fix it. The arrow looked like it had seriously damaged the flexor tendons that let her move the leg. They'd probably have to at least break off most of the arrow. She wouldn't know if they could remove it without causing more damage until she examined it, which would probably require them to tie Gísl's legs down.

Returning with the medical supplies, as well as several plants, Jane didn't recognize, Thor moved to kneel next to her in the grass. She held up a hand to stop him, "Got any ropes to tie her? She's not exactly the nicest horse to people she doesn't know." She didn't relish the idea of hobbling her horse, but it was either that or not treat the injury, and the latter was not an option.

"Do not worry for me, my lady," he said with a wink.

Jane scowled in annoyance. "I think I would know my own horse, thank you."

"I was not trying to imply you did not," he said, kneeling beside her without fear.

Jane gave up on trying to fight his arrogance, saying, "It's your funeral." She didn't move, knowing that Gísl would lash out eventually; however, she didn't want to be blamed for injuring the Rebellion's golden boy.

"I do not plan to die today," he returned playfully. She narrowed her eyes at him. Was he... _flirting_ at a time like this? She remembered his earlier wink and realized that yes, yes he was flirting. Suddenly, though, as soon as she came to the realization, his mood evaporated, becoming serious. "Do you mind if I treat her?"

She had to remind herself of Hawkeye's words, _He can be trusted, Jane._ "Like I said, your funeral." She also wouldn't mind having a large dent put into his obviously inflated ego if Gísl maybe broke something. Like a finger or his face. (Maybe not his face.)

He'd brought the strange plants with him, running a hand along Gísl's body and speaking so softly to her horse she barely heard him. "Aren't you a lovely creature. Built for speed, these legs are. Can't have an arrow sticking out of one of those beauties, can we now?" His gentle words belied his great size and imposing figure, and something in Jane softened towards him.

He plucked several individual leaves from their branches, tearing them in half along the centerfold vein. Gently, he placed the torn leaves around the arrow shaft, completely covering the wound. They stuck easily to the blood, and Gísl didn't so much as twitch.

Impressed, Jane leaned closer to watch what he did. His palms covered the poultice of leaves then, slotting his thumbs tightly around the arrow. Gísl grunted, showing signs of starting to fight his hands. Jane reacted quickly moving from where she was sitting until she was shoulder to shoulder with Thor and could reach out to grasp Gísl's back legs just below her hocks. "You might want to hurry," Jane said.

Thor nodded, and began speaking, "_Malak kulev kulev. Kulevoô eine na maen."_ Jane had only ever heard it spoken aloud once or twice, but she was certain he was speaking Alfheim Elvish. "_Salim salyvoô. Sha sam haneva,_" he finished, leaning back. Jane looked down to see the leaves almost shimmering as the ground did when the sun beat down on it. The veins in the leaves pulsed visibly for a moment before the shimmering stopped, and then the leaves looked ordinary once more. "It won't last long."

"What was it?" Jane asked, voice burning with curiosity.

"Elvish medicine," he answered. He sounded a bit surprised by her interest. "It's a temporary pain shield. We'll need to act quickly."

She nodded, moving closer to Thor to examine the leg. She'd heard much about Elvish medicine, but she had never seen it done or had much faith in it. It seemed irrational-saying a few magical words over some leaves. She supposed that was the general basis for most magic, but she'd never seen much practiced; Jane figured it was quantifiable in some way, rationally possible rather than explained away as magically wondrous.

Setting aside her doubts for the time being, her fingers peeled away the leaves and parted the wound as carefully and softly as she could. She noted Gísl's movements-she was still. Much to Jane's surprise, the pain shield had worked, and decided to ask Thor about his knowledge of Elvish medicine later. Refocusing her attention, her eyes carefully catalogued the damage. It hadn't gone as deep as she'd feared- it only went as deep as to conceal the arrow's head. "Think we'll be able to take it out?" Thor asked her. "It looks like we won't cause her any more damage, or more pain than she's already in."

Distantly recognizing and being impressed by his knowledge that came without even having to look closely at the injury, Jane considered his words. Her fingers had become sticky with drying blood, but she had gathered all the information she needed and came to the same conclusion that Thor had. "We'll have to be gentle."

Thor nodded in agreement, hands moving towards the arrow; Jane's moved at the same time, and they collided somewhere in the middle. Neither jolted away or yielded to the other. She shot him an annoyed look. "I have the steadiest hands."

"I have better knowledge of medicine," he fired back.

"And that helps yank out arrows how?"

"I've done this before."

Jane's eyes narrowed, distantly aware that their hands were still touching. "I don't know that for sure. The only person's hands I trust here are my own."

He finally held up his own in deference. "Fine. Just be quick, the pain spell has almost worn off."

Thor moved so that Jane had a better vantage of the arrow, but he didn't move off far. With one hand on the wound, parting the torn edges of the skin, she grasped the arrow with the other, as close to the base as she could. She took one breath in, and with it, she pulled the arrow, not jerking quickly, but rather smoothly sliding until it was free from the tendons and muscles.

Blood began spilling more in earnest, the removal of the arrow renewing the bleeding. Jane covered it without hesitation, pressing hard into the flesh.

Gísl moaned, and Jane shot a look at Thor. "I think we're going to need more of that Elvish medicine."

He nodded, moving back to his original position, shoulder to shoulder with Jane. "I cannot perform the pain shield again, not so soon after the first. This one is not as effective," he explained, tearing more leaves in his hands, "she will still feel the injury somewhat, but it will last long enough so that we can get back to camp."

Jane pulled her hand away, now covered in blood, so she grabbed a cloth from the medical supply kit and began cleaning the blood off her hands. This time, she watched the spell with more apt interest; what plants was he using? Perhaps the properties of the leaves are what make the spells work? One looked like some variety of mint, another was certainly ragwort. She didn't recognize the others - she'd never had much of a fondness for botany.

This one was shorter, but performed in a similar fashion. "_Raku hyan. Eine haneva._" He left the poultice on the wound, reaching for the cotton wraps. He slowly, deliberately wrapped the wound, large hands graceful and agile in the task. "So what exactly did the Raven do to incur the wrath of the Queen's Army this time?" he asked casually.

Beyond them, Jane noticed, was the stack of soldiers' bodies. A good number of them were completely stripped naked, their wounds still oozing blood slowly. Several had slit throats, evidence that their initial wound hadn't killed them, and so the rebel foot soldiers had done them a kindness of not letting them burn to death. One of the men threw oil over their corpses. Her hands had stopped moving, the bloodied cloth clenched tightly in her fist.

Jane swallowed heavily. The violence and killing was one part of this life she did not think she would ever be accustomed to.

"My lady?" Thor prompted after hearing no response from her. He followed her gaze to the macabre scene as the bodies were set alight.

"Sorry... it's just... what did you ask me, again?"

Thor's lips pursued, and she thought he might pursue the topic she'd opened with her hesitation, but he let it go. "You were being pursued. I was curious how one such as yourself managed to attract the attention of such a large number of the Queen's Army."

She chuckled softly, "'One such as yourself.' You can call me an assassin, if you want. It is probably the technical term for me now, anyway." _Who would have thought. The assassin Jane_ _Foster_, she thought, pausing briefly before she spoke, "Shouldn't we be getting her up now?" She gestured to Gísl's leg, fully wrapped by Thor's skillful hands. She tucked the rag into a pocket beneath her cloak.

"Ah, yes. We should get moving. The base camp is not too far, about a day's walk. We should get moving before anyone notices the smoke pyre and comes to investigate," he said.

With Jane at Gísl's head, pulling and encouraging, and Thor at her hindquarters, using his bulk to persuade her to stand, the wounded horse heaved herself to her feet. She favored the leg with the wrap, but not to the amount that Jane had suspected. "That's incredible," she breathed, walking backwards for a few paces so that she could watch the leg. "Will this aggravate the injury further?"

Thor walked beside her, slowly making his way to his own horse. "Not any more than would be garnered thrashing around as she was. We will have our veterinarians see to her immediately upon arrival." He took the large, black horse's reins in his hands, but did not mount up. "Men! Form ranks and move out!"

The rebel soldiers lined up in pairs, and most of the pilfered armor and supplies were loaded onto the backs of the reclaimed horses. Whoever headed the line knew which direction to head, so the line began to march. It wasn't a perfect march, but it was more discipline than Jane had expected. Stories she'd heard about the Rebellion hadn't been all that promising, but after everything she'd lost, it wasn't as if she had anywhere else to go.

Marking what she hoped would be the last surprise of the day, Thor didn't move to mount his horse, nor did he seem interested in joining his men ahead.

Strange. "Will you not join your troops?" asked Jane, perhaps with a touch of bitterness. "Usually most men are eager to leave the company of a woman."

He fell into step beside her, their horses flanking their shoulders, and he wore a large, warm grin, "I think you will find I am not most men."

* * *

**12 Months Earlier**

Fear is a strange beast.

Sometimes, it coils and flames and tears like an angry dragon spewing flame. Other times, it sits in his stomach like a lead weight. Then it becomes colder than a Jotunheim night, freezes his courage and strength of will until they are nothing more than fond memories patterned into the ice.

This was one of the times when it was frozen.

Thor felt absolutely frozen with his fear as he urged Sleipnir faster. Each pound of a hoof against the earth each made Thor feel colder and more afraid.

_What of the princess's son? His condition was not a part of my message._

Of all the things he worried about when he was banished, of all the things he mourned, his brother was the first thing on his mind. Many mornings, he awoke with thoughts of his brother: how he fared, how much taller he had grown in Thor's absence. Their lack of blood relation made no difference to Thor. Loki was his little brother. Always had been, and always will be. Out of everything, he felt mostly the crippling guilt for missing six years of his brother's life because of his own stupidity.

_Jotuns are approaching the border! We must act!_

A handful of letters was all Thor had of his family in the past six years, sent from Asgard in secret because no letter to him would manage to reach him if his brother used the legitimate postal system. That made Thor smile. Loki was always the clever one of the two of them.

His fear curled into flame.

_If they dared lay a finger on my brother, they will regret being born._

* * *

After dropping her bow and comfortable clothing off at Darcy's (her mother would never allow her too keep such things in her house, and Darcy always volunteered to hold onto them for her) she returned home.

She'd just finished scrubbing the last of the dirt out from underneath her fingernails at Laurel's behest (_"I really do wish you'd stop associating with all those people in the Lowtown, Jane. What would Donald say if he found out where you go every day? And look at that dress! By god, you look like a commoner! You'll have to change before dinner."_), when she heard their front door open. It wasn't until Jane heard the voice of her father that her head shot up and she felt happiness erupt in her. He was finally home! And a day early!

She raced to the staircase, looking down to where she saw the prominent professor Dr. Erik Foster embracing Laurel warmly. She didn't think she'd ever understand their relationship, given their stark contrast of personalities.

"Father!" she called out in excitement.

His eyes raised to her, and he smiled- his eyes crinkling first before his lips pulled back in joy. "Look at you, my beautiful girl!"

She giggled, racing down the steps. Laurel stepped away, letting Jane enthusiastically throw her arms around Erik. She squeezed him tightly, her face buried in his shoulder. He smelled the same as ever- like chalk dust and wood and whiskey. It was a comfort she didn't have often.

Since she was a little girl, her father had been relatively absent from her life. He was a world renowned professor and scientist, and his groundbreaking research in applied physics had always inspired Jane. He didn't let his absence make his daughter think less of him- he constantly sent her things from his travels, and with each gift he included a letter. He'd been all over the Yggdrasil continent, as well as the lands beyond the seas. A segment of Chitauri armor. A shining, opalescent scale from a Jormagandr serpent. A ceremonial dagger of obsidian stone from the Vinje Moutains in Jotunheim. She kept all of his gifts in her chambers, reminding her every day that her father loved her, and made her remember her goals to become just as famous a scientist as Erik Foster.

He was the one who made sure she attended the best private starting schools on the Rim, even after the rest of the girls her age had stopped attending school to engage in, as Laurel put it, "more practical pursuits." Not only did she remain in school, despite some of her most ardent critics, she excelled. She was due to graduate in a few weeks from New York's best university with a doctorate. She'd forever be _Dr._ Jane Foster. She would never have to be _Mrs._ even if-_when_ she had to take the last name Blake. She would always be a doctor. _Mr. and Dr. Blake_ did not sound nearly as bad.

"I've missed you so," she told him, pulling away.

He patted her cheek gently. "And I, you. Now tell me, how goes the doctorate?"

She heard Laurel sigh behind her, but Jane paid her no mind. "Good. Really good. I've collected enough evidence to prove that the Aurora are a magnetic phenomenon! I can't wait to defend it before the committee."

Erik sighed. "Oh Jane, I really wish I could have talked you into focusing on something more grounded. You know, _real_ science. This theoretical business is rather impractical. If you perhaps changed your thesis, you could come and join me in my work."

It was a tired subject between them, and one that Jane's opinion had never truly strayed on. "As much as I admire your work, Father, I need to go my own way. I don't want to ride your coattails to my grave. And I've worked on this thesis for years. I am not giving up on it."

He smiled again, a note of disappointment in his face that struck her deeply. She didn't let it show. "I've always known better than to argue with you, eh?"

"Well, if we've all that silly academic talk out of the way, I have dinner waiting for us," Laurel said. She looked to Jane, who was now wearing a less formal home dress, crafted of soft, blue velvet and no corset to constrict her less-than-deal figure. "I suppose that will do."

They sit at the table, their small troop of servants moving quickly and silently, dishing food and pouring wine, but once all was settled and the servants were gone, the room descended into a silence only punctuated by the scrape of the silver cutlery upon the porcelain dishes.

"How fares Asgard?" Jane asked, breaking the silence. She knew this trip had ended with a series of lectures at several universities in the Capitol, a place she'd only visited a few times. Each time she'd gone, Jane had been there to visit Donald, and she was more enthralled by the majestic city than she was the man droning on about court politics and how with some fancy treaty-making skills had managed to become thirty-first in line for the throne. The magically-enabled Floating Spires, the grand Palace, and not to mention the largest library in Yggdrasil, The Great Asgardian Archives. Jane had tried to convince Donald she wanted to go in (and probably live there.) _"Whatever for?"_ he'd asked in genuine confusion. _"No woman belongs in an academic library."_ That had been the moment that Jane realized how badly she did not want to get married. She had dreamed of ditching her fiancé and going in anyway. Well, she supposed since Donald lived there, so she wouldn't be dreaming anymore; she would not let him stand in the way of her pursuit of knowledge.

Instead of receiving the expected answer, the one he usually gave her about the beauty of the city and the ever-growing collection of the Asgardian Archives, Erik said solemnly, "Chaotic. There are daily arrests on bogus charges, and they are not even trying to hide the arrests any longer. They just drag innocent people out into the streets, sometimes for beatings, and sometimes to be taken away."

Laurel looked uncomfortable, shifting in her seat. "I would say it is unwise to jump to conclusions about their innocence. It seems that the Queen would need good reason before making an arrest, wouldn't you say?"

"Do not play the ignorant fool, Laurel. I know genuine ignorant fools, and you are no actress."

"This," Laurel hissed between clenched teeth, "is the type of talk that will bring the Queensagents down upon us. I would rather not have our entire family imprisoned for sedition or treason."

Jane hated politics. She cursed the required political sciences class she'd been forced to attend. The political practice was so nebulous to her, so fraught with tension and dishonest maneuvering so that the truth could be bent for personal gain. In her opinion, it shouldn't even be considered a science, because the absolute truth is the furthest thing from a politician's mind. She didn't pay much attention to the process, but it was hard to ignore it when Hela came to the throne. That had been an unstable time for Asgard and its provinces of Vanaheim and Midgard.

"The fact that we can be imprisoned for breathing a single word against the crown is the precise reason we should think the people being arrested are innocent. Because statistically, they are. Statements of truth are being regarded as treasonous. Look at the facts," Erik said, "nearly the whole kingdom knows that Hela was not in line for the throne. The current rules of succession say that the eldest male of the Royal Family may take the throne.

"Cul's line ended with Hela when he became sterile in the war. So, the First Family is already out of the line of succession even if Hela had a Quorum, which she does not. Prince Ve's family's mysterious disappearance was never solved, so the Third Family is out of the picture. Not even a month after King Vili died in the 'riding accident,' Hela _took_ the throne. It was just shy of a military coup that she passed off as trying to retain the peace of the land since there would be no viable heirs! Remember Vili's sons who were too young to assume the throne, and yet they were still old enough to be killed in 'military training accidents?' I think Hela got each of the Families out of the way. She forced her way into the crown with the help of her followers, and the whole Court knows it, yet no one does anything about it."

Jane did remember that. She'd been visiting Donald at the time and had been one of the people who had witnessed a green-cloaked Hela leading a sizable force of armored men bearing her crest up the steps of the Palace. Later that day, it had been announced that Hela was now Asgard's sworn Queen.

"If Hela isn't the rightful ruler," asked Jane quietly, contemplatively, "then who is?" It was always difficult for Jane to keep track of the Royal Family. The late King Bor had had four sons, and each of them had their own families, so it was a rather confusing task to remember them, especially since Jane didn't have much care about them.

"Technically, since the First, Second, and Third Families no longer have any male heirs, the right would fall to the Fourth Family. The heir is Thor Odinson, son of the late Odin Borson. The House of Odin should have the throne, not the forced rulership of Culdottir."

That name was familiar to Jane. She remembered why- so many of the other court ladies fawned over him constantly, and there were a few gossip publications that constantly wrote probably falsified stories about the 'Golden God of Asgard.' Jane has always rolled her eyes at that and returned to her studies, because no man was more important than that.

"But he was banished years ago," Laurel pointed out.

"For reasons never disclosed to the public," Erik said. "It would not surprise me if Hela had something to do with that as well. I also can't help but notice that the death of Princess Frigga coincided with serious consideration of her installation as Queen."

"I remember when she was coronated and she was going on about her post being temporary until one of the male heirs became old enough to take the throne," Jane commented, realization dawning upon her. "Do you think Hela arranged the Princess's death to keep herself in power?" She hated political discussion, but she would stomach it for her father.

Laurel finally snapped, "Can we please stop talking about our Queen as if she is a war criminal? It is sedition at best. If anyone were to overhear-"

"Yes, we would be imprisoned. I am well aware," said Erik bitterly.

"Then, perhaps," Laurel hissed, "we should pick up another topic of discussion. This is hardly proper dinner talk, anyway." There were a few moments of heavy silence until Laurel finally let out a gusting breath, and plastered on a grin that Jane could tell was fake. "Jane, dear, why don't you tell your father about the wedding planning?"

And so she swapped one unsavory topic for another. Although, she would rather talk politics than the wedding. _Anything_ other than that.

* * *

After dodging most of the questions and passing them off to her mother, who was more than happy to talk about Jane's coming nuptials, Jane excused herself from the table, retreating to her room. She wished she could stay and talk with her father more about her thesis, but Laurel wouldn't give them a moment alone.

_There's always tomorrow,_ she thought.

She dismissed the ladies maids who offered to help her change for bed. Sometimes she hated their presence, constantly asking her if she needed help like she was a child.

A white nightgown that dropped to her mid-calf was all she had for bed, so she dressed quickly, and then went to her bedside table, where a leather-bound notebook held everything she'd ever discovered about the sky.

It wasn't organized in any way, and it was mostly just a mish-mash of ideas, math, and magical spells she was breaking down into physics, but it was by far her most prized possession. Most nights she found herself falling asleep against its worn pages, and sometimes when she got a big breakthrough, she would stay awake until the next day's sun touched the horizon.

Tonight was a night that she fell asleep reading over her past conclusions.

It was late in the night when Jane was awoken by crashing from the first floor. The sound of many heavy footsteps, and shouted orders from gruff, male voices that she didn't recognize made a toxic fear bloom in Jane like she had never felt anything else before.

_How many people is that now? Seven._

_Ian thinks it's the Queen._

_The Rim is crawling with Queensagents._

"No! _Please_, no, stop!" She heard her mother pleading hoarsely.

_...not even trying to hide the arrests any longer._

She shoved the blankets off her body and sprung out of bed, heedless of the less than practical nightgown. Not trusting to leave it behind, Jane tucked the notebook away in a pocket of her gown. With her heart rate steadily climbing, Jane looked around her room for something to use as a weapon. She didn't know why she did it- violence was not something she would resort to. Shooting at targets was one thing... actually using something like that on another person was another matter entirely. Regardless of her reservations, she took the still sharp Jotun dagger from its pedestal on the shelf. She felt assured by it's weight in her hand as she raced out of her room and down the hall toward the stairs. The carved wood of the handle was sanded smooth and slid a little against her sweating palm, and the dim light caught the facets of the black blade, making its surface sparkle like a night sky.

She came to a grinding halt when she reached the top of the steps, the sight that greeted her nearly making her sick. There was barely any light cast by a single lantern in the hand of a soldier standing next to a man who seemed to act as commandant to two of the Queen's Army who dragged a struggling figure she knew was her father towards the open door. His hands were forced around his back, and a burlap bag over his head. The two soldiers dragged him backwards, hands controlling Erik by his arms and shoulders.

Her mother stood a few feet away from them, her stance fierce and unrelenting- a look Jane has never seen on Laurel before. "What are the charges against him? He has the right to hear his charges!" Laurel shouted, all fire and righteous anger.

There was no response, and Jane moved forward without thinking. "Let my father go!" she demanded as she descended the stairs.

Her mother whirled to look at her, her face went from strong to terrified. "No, Jane, please, just stay up there," she begged quietly.

"Like hell," Jane replied, having reached the bottom of the stairs. Jane was only forced to a stop when her mother grabbed her arm to keep her from advancing on the soldiers who were making progress towards getting her flailing father out the door. Suddenly, Erik managed to break away, nearly falling forward as the two soldiers lost their grip on him. He didn't make it very far, as the young soldiers were a great deal swifter and stronger than the aging scientist. One of them took his arms back into his hold, and the other landed a sound punch to his gut.

Erik emitted a pained grunt that sounded muffled by more than just the burlap bag.

Red tinged her vision, and rage stirred deep within her, and before her mother could stop her, Jane raised the dagger, and threw it.

She wasn't as good with throwing knives as she was her bow, but she'd spent enough time in the Lowtown to know exactly how to do it.

The soldiers, while well armored, wore no helmets or chainmail, leaving their heads and necks exposed. Her dagger spun through the air, and stabbed into the side of the neck of the one who threw the punch.

He went down almost immediately, and Jane saw the blood pulsing from his neck. It didn't ooze slowly as it did in all the books she'd read. No, she must have hit an artery as blood veritably spurted from the wound, coating the black knife in dark blood. She couldn't take her eyes off of it, the dying man on the floor and the growing puddle of blood beneath him.

"No," breathed Laurel beside her. "Oh, God no."

Jane felt like she was going to be sick.

The commandant strode forward, drawing his sword and stepped past his dead comrade. "Keep on the traitor! I will deal with this harlot," he commanded the remaining soldier still dragging Erik, as well as the one with the lantern. "Insolent woman. Just because you are the weaker sex does not mean I will not bring down the wrath of the Queen's Army down upon you." The lantern was extinguished, leaving them only in the light of the moon.

They could only marginally hear Erik's muffled cries of protest as he was dragged out the door and out of sight.

Jane was only marginally aware of his words as Laurel forced her daughter behind her, adopting the fierce stance once more. "Your petty words and your sword must get through me first," she growled. "And I must warn you that I will not be easily felled."

"Lady Foster, this need not concern you," the commandant said. "I must execute justice. You must understand. Your daughter has killed a member of the Queen's Royal Army and must be dealt with accordingly."

Jane finally tore her gaze away from the man she killed, God, she _killed_ a man, and now she was going to pay for it. In an instant, she saw everything she would lose- her education (_she would never be Doctor Foster. Never._), her family (_she would never see her father or her mother again. As poor as her relationship was with her mother, Laurel was her _mother_, and she would never see her again. She'd never see Darcy or Ian, or any of her friends in the Lowtown ever again._), and her freedom (_she would be jailed for life, at best. Never allowed to see the stars, never allowed to travel the world, never allowed to leave her cell. She would probably be executed. She'd be the one dead on the floor._).

Fear hit her like a solid wall, and it literally knocked the breath out of her. "Mom," Jane whimpered, terrified, using a moniker she hadn't used since she was a child.

Laurel didn't turn towards her, backing them slowly down the hall towards the back of the house, away from the advancing commandant, who was still trying to persuade Laurel to get out of the way. "A loyal servant of the throne such as yourself need not be troubled by these matters," he coaxed to no avail. One of Laurel's hands found Jane's, squeezing solidly in the most motherly gesture Jane had felt in years. It struck more fear into her heart than anything the commandant said.

"Jane, when I tell you to, you're going to run," Laurel murmured lowly, eyes fixed on the commandant. "You're going to run and you're not going to stop." By the end of the command, Laurel's voice broke.

Tears stung Jane's eyes then, but she didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. She pressed her face into her mother's back, holding back the sobs as the tears started to pour down her face.

"You're going to be very strong for me, my love," Laurel continued, and Jane noticed their position- close to the kitchen, where there was a back door. "History is written by the strongest and the smartest." Laurel came to a stop. "I love you," she said, barely a breath. "Now run!" Laurel commanded sharply, shoving Jane backwards towards the door as she charged, completely unarmed, at the commandant.

Jane ran.


End file.
